


In Between The Snowflakes

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Job, Established Relationship, M/M, Schmoop, Snowball Fight, Sparring, Wincest - Freeform, Winter fun, cabin fever, light frottage, timeframe: after season 11ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 20:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: A winter storm has them snowed in. Cabin fever leads to wanting fresh air and sparring leads to a snowball fight. That leads to tackling and falling into the snowdrifts, sharing kisses as the snow falls around them.





	In Between The Snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

> Entirely inspired by the song [In Between the Raindrops by Natasha Bedingfield & Lifehouse.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dG6-bU6esKo)
> 
> Written for the [2018 SPN Holiday Mixtape Challenge.](http://holidaymixtape.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Beta'd at the last minute, saving my bacon, by the wonderful nerdypastrychef, [Kris.](https://twitter.com/ChefKris10sv) All mistakes remain my own.

 

 

Supply-wise, they were well prepared for the storm. What they were not prepared for was the immense cabin fever that set in for Dean after just two days of being holed up in the hunter’s cabin Jody had recommended outside of Bonners Ferry, Idaho.

No electricity in the cabin meant no internet connection. Not even a hot spot from their cell phones was available. Sam had spent the better part of the last day reading – for pleasure – by the fire, staying cozy warm with a blanket on his lap. He wasn’t ready to say he was feeling the itch to do something active just yet – they didn’t get this kind of luxury time often and he was using it to relax and enjoy while he could.

Dean on the other hand, was pacing like a caged bear. No electricity also meant no TV. Baby was snowed in, so no automotive tinkering could be done, either. After going through the local paper they’d picked up before getting to the cabin, and a couple hours leafing through some books on lore Sam insisted they take with them, he’d reached a breaking point. He needed to move, and they weren’t going to be tackling the Wendigo in the Kootenai National Forest anytime soon, from the looks of it.

Sex came to mind, and sadly, he discarded that train of thought. Plenty of time for that later, besides, Sammy looked adorably comfortable in the deep leather chair, bathed in firelight. Seeing him happily indulge in something so very _Sam_ was something Dean wasn’t about to take away.

Instead, he layered up with another flannel shirt and threw on one of the heavier coats they’d brought, pulling out a pair of thick gloves. When Sam glanced up, arching his brow inquisitively, Dean smiled at him. “Gotta get some air, little brother.” He pulled the gloves on, added a thick scarf around his neck, tucking the ends into his coat, and even slid on a knit hat – it was seriously frigid out and he didn’t want Sam to bitch at him later. Plus, his ears got cold easily these days – not that he’d admit that to anyone.

Getting around outside was going to prove a bit harder than he’d thought – the wind had blown snow pretty far up the front door, from the looks of things. The back of the cabin had a lean-to attached, so he exited that way. The small semi-roofed shelter was open on one end, and luckily for Dean, currently faced opposite the driving wind. It was just big enough to step outside and have a cleared starting point from which to begin shoveling.

He figured he’d try to dig a small foot path type of channel around the cabin and clear the front door entry. He could make an igloo formation around the door, making a nice covered path out to the additional firewood supply. They might be stuck a bit longer than anticipated and keeping a clear exit and a fire going would be the first step in Survival 101. Of course, they’d have to hunch and practically crawl out, because he wasn’t making it ten feet tall so his sasquatch of a brother could walk upright; not that he himself was a midget by any means.

After about an hour of awkward shoveling, he’d made it halfway around the cabin and had a decent walkway going. He went back inside to warm up and get some coffee, finding Sam stoking the fire and a delicious aroma filling the cabin.

“Whazzat?” He shook off his coat and hung it up, pulling off his gloves and keeping his hat on, sniffing the air as he warmed his hands over the fire.

“Made some camp-style foil packets – cut up some steaks with potatoes and vegetables. Figured we’d let them roast a while and I’d come out and help you. Fresh coffee’s perked, get yourself caffeinated and I’ll take over for a bit.”

“Aw Sammy, you sure know the way to my heart,” Dean smirked as he moved to the kitchenette area and poured himself a cup. “I just need a few minutes and this jet fuel, I can handle the rest.” He drank deeply, watching Sam’s bitchface bloom and smiling inwardly. “Good call on the heavy winter gear back at the store though. This storm is definitely not something to take lightly outside.” 

“I’m still coming out to help you, jerk. Besides, we’ll get it done twice as fast and then not have to worry before the storm gets worse. By the time we’re done, dinner will be ready.” Sam began layering up, then slid into his own coat and looked for his waterproof gloves, which Dean had picked up off the counter.

Nodding at Sam as he handed them over, Dean couldn’t resist adding, “Don’t forget your scarf, bitch.” The next face he got from Sam meant he was so close to pushing his brother into what Dean privately called a hissy fit. Like an adult temper tantrum, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle. Some things just never got old.

Plus, when that happened Sam got extra huffy and bit his pink lips even pinker, his hazel eyes going kaleidoscope gorgeous and it was actually pretty damn sexy. Win-win for Dean.

Shaking his head to clear out those thoughts since this was not the time – but definitely the place later, Dean drained his coffee cup and followed his brother back out to the lean-to.

“Got a good path started. Need to shore up the sides and I figure we can continue around to the front and then make a cave there.” He peeked at Sam, watching him nod in agreement, clearly impressed and ready to get to work. “Not sure why they put the damn firewood pile outside the front door rather than back here where it’d be safer from the elements.”

Sam laughed, watching Dean grumpily pick the shovel back up. “C’mon Dean, you know Jody got late notice to the hunter that owns this cabin to let him know we were coming. He probably barely got firewood delivered here ahead of this storm. We’re lucky to have it at all.”  Sam started smoothing over the channel wall with his gloved hands, so the footpath would stay strong, clear and walkable.

The fresh air was crisp and clean, even if the snow wouldn’t stop falling and the wind was whipping any open skin it could find to red, raw windburn. The physical activity would be good for them, too. Dinner would be much more enjoyable when they were thoroughly worn out, warm and dry again.

They continued for another hour, clearing around to the front of the cabin and beginning the igloo-style wall.  They worked swiftly, clearing out the drifted snow, building up the side walls and bridge around the front door. Sam began smoothing the inner walls to gentle slopes that would carry drips down the sides rather than fall on them as snow melted in the retained heat. That would reinforce the walls to ice as well. Dean forwent making the space smaller since they were both working on the project and could afford the time to do it correctly and concentrated on the path to the firewood while Sam finished the cave. When they were done they could open the front door wide enough to slide out and still have the wall be thick and strong enough to hold off additional snow on top.  Once through the door they had to crouch down lower and crawl the rest of the way to the wood supply, but that was ok. They tested going out to the firewood pile through it and brought back several armfuls of still dry wood for inside, building a smaller pile to keep right outside the door.

When they were back inside, dinner was ready and they changed into warm, dry clothes. They were completely spent, worn out in the best way from fresh air and exercise, and the rest of the evening after eating consisted of Sam sleepily reading while Dean let his hands play absently through Sam’s hair as he stared into the crackling fire, both of them curled into each other in a way they were lifelong familiar with – sharing space as they shared breath and heartbeats.

The following morning found them wrapped around each other, with the fire barely burning. Sometime in the night Sam had pulled pillows and blankets to the couch for them, and Dean did not want to break out of the warm cocoon they’d created. He shifted slightly, opening one eye to see a pair of blinking hazels staring up at him. Sam smiled, that morning soft glow about him, before arching up to give him a tender kiss. 

Dean moved a hand to lightly stroke over Sam’s face. The tips of his nose and tops of his cheeks were pink from windburn, and Dean was certain his own looked the same. Sam’s lips were chapped, so he kissed back carefully. He grunted as he shifted again, breaking free from the octopus hold Sam had over him. “Gotta stoke the fire, Sammy.”

Sam whined as they lost contact, losing body heat, and pulled the covers tightly all around him, pouting just a bit. “C’mere.”

“Give me five minutes sweetheart.” Dean added a few logs to the dwindling fire and stirred them with the iron poker, encouraging the wood to catch and burn. When it was roaring again, Dean plodded to the kitchenette and started a pot of coffee. While waiting, he pulled out two ceramic mugs, heavily adding milk and sugar to one before filling them both full of the dark magical brew they needed and heading back to the couch.

They sat and drank under the covers in sleepy silence, each waking up in their own way as the cabin warmed up and the sunlight tried to filter in through frosted windowpanes.

As much as Sam loved to read for fun and had enjoyed the better part of a day doing just that, he couldn’t do it again. After their afternoon shoveling session yesterday, his muscles now screamed at him to get moving and stay active. He didn’t need to ask Dean to know his brother was already making a plan for the day. “So?”

Dean looked over to Sam before he rose again, stretching his arms and peering out through the top of a window. “Well, it’s stopped snowing. That’s a good sign. Still looks pretty frigid though, and I doubt we’re getting help anytime soon this far out from town.”

Sam reluctantly stood up, twisting his hips to get the blood moving in his body. “What’re you thinking then?”

Dean grinned, knowing Sam would hate the answer. He’d go along with it because he always did. He just hated doing it. Eternally suffering little brother. He turned to face Sam, making eye contact and pulling his oh so very wonderful big brother card. He could see the moment Sam braced, almost as if he knew what was coming. “Sparring.”

Sam’s reaction was immediate and delightful. “Dean, no! C’mon, man, we about killed ourselves yesterday, and it’s like, zero degrees outside! We’re gonna look stupid in all our winter gear trying to spar!”

Dean let him continue, tuning out the words and getting himself another cup of coffee. He savored each swallow, letting Sam wind down. Thirty-some years old and his reaction to sparring never, ever changed. Damn his brother was just too freaking cute sometimes and Dean relished knowing how to push his buttons.

“You about done? Look, Sam. We’re stuck here. We need to do something to keep ourselves active so we don’t fight about stupid shit instead out of sheer boredom.” One glance at Sam and the pout was giving way, give the boy a bit of logic and Sam was on board. “Plus, when we can finally break outta here, we need to be in fighting form to take on that Wendigo.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just. Dude, can you just stick to sparring and not that stuff you always pull?” Sam had moved into some light stretches once he realized he wasn’t gonna get out of the tried and true activity they always turned to. The moves allowed a thick shock of hair to fall into his face, which hid the blush he knew was creeping up.

“What stuff?” Dean teased, knowing full well what Sam meant. Hey, if brothers couldn’t have a little competition between them, then where was the fun? He chuckled at Sam, not even trying to contain the smirk he knew he was wearing. It’s not Dean’s fault that Sam always got…distracted and thusly, beaten. Anyway, it’s not like they’d be able to actually pop a boner through all the layers of clothes and the literal freezing temps outside. Nothing for Sam to worry about, really. The best part would be after anyway, as he planned to give Sam a full body massage. Then maybe a shared bath, if they could both fit in the tub. And well, naked fun times could ensue from that, and a lazy afternoon in bed with his brother sounded perfect.

Sam took his time getting ready, layering in light and moveable cotton that would allow for breathing. He’d sweat like a furnace, even outside in the snow. He always ran hot, and not just from Dean. Sparring ramped up his natural proclivity to sweat, even more than any other activity, and that – that actually might be due to Dean. He grinned to himself, thinking about times past. Maybe they’d get so worn out they could spend the rest of the day in bed; Sam planned on prolonging a soft, lingering make out session before they lost all sense of time and control of themselves in each other completely.

Making their way to the back of the cabin, they stepped out into an overcast day. They were bundled head to toe, and trudged through the snow a bit to a clearing away from the cabin. Sam pondered how in the hell sparring was going to work, when the slightest push would throw the other into deep packed snow. There would be no light and easy grace to hop back up and keep moving.

Dean observed the area around them, pondering exactly how this was going to go. Best laid plans and all. There was no way to leverage a fighting stance. No punches or jabs would even have an impact with all their layers aside from knocking them down.

In unison they looked at each other, practically reading each other’s minds, boyish smiles alight on their faces.

“Snowball fight?”

“Snowball fight.”

They took off in opposite directions to make quick forts out of the drifted banks and broken branches, beginning to build their cache of snowballs. Winchester rules meant they had five minutes before fair game allowed them to start lobbing balls at each other. They’d play until one gave in – or gave out.

The next hour had them running back and forth along their ‘territory’, racing to not get hit while launching an attack on the other. Intermittent breaks to restock their snowball count and catch a breather were rare however they each took advantage of the pauses in play. The snow had started falling again about thirty minutes in to their game, thick white flakes that would eventually cover the tracks they’d made.

After another twenty minutes and a longer break, Dean raised a gloved hand signaling a complete stop in play. Sam was wary; sometimes Dean fought dirty. When Sam peeked above his snow fort top, he barely missed an incoming ball. Oh, that was _it_.

Sam knew Dean would assume he was ducking back down to make more snowballs, so he’d never see Sam coming. Taking the last three balls he had, Sam crawled along the bank and around a small cluster of trees, the snow giving him silent passage. He rounded the trees and snuck up along the backside of Dean’s own protected area. Dean was laughing, making snowball after snowball and placing them in a neat little pile. Every so often he’d raise his head to peer out, and seeing no Sam in sight, duck back down and continue stocking his supply.

Sam hunkered down and waited until he had a perfectly clear view of Dean’s face, then WHOOSH. The ball hit dead on and Dean squawked in surprise, snow bits clinging to his face as his indignant expression caused Sam to fall back on his heels, roaring with laughter.

“Sammy!” Dean rose up to rush his brother in retaliation, then thought better of it, slowing down and sauntering towards him, snowball in hand. Sam was convulsed in giggles, covered in fresh fallen snow, and the twinkle in his eyes was full of a glee Dean would never tire of seeing. Damn but Sam was beautiful.

Dean dropped down beside him, enjoying the happiness at his own expense. When Sam’s laughing slowed down and he fully realized Dean was right next to him, he waited with bated breath; snowball in the face or worse? Dean surprised him, giving up the game to lean in and give a hungry kiss instead, releasing the snowball in favor of trailing a line of moist, warm butterfly kisses down Sam’s jaw to his neck. As Sam lost himself in the warm lushness of Dean’s mouth, his arms naturally wound around Dean as much as they could with the heavy coats on, his body shifting to align into Dean’s.

They licked snowflakes from each other’s mouths as they rocked against each other in a natural movement born of years together, heated looks between them growing hotter. Suddenly their winter gear was too much, too heavy. They tossed aside scarves and removed gloves to unbutton coats, leaving them overlapping just enough to allow a small pocket of warmth between them. Sam’s knit beanie fell off and Dean let his hands brush through the damp chestnut locks before pulling it back on, his nose brushing against Sam’s, nuzzling against him. Sam slipped his hands underneath the multiple shirt layers Dean wore to trace lightly along his nipples, pebbling them further.

He stopped when Dean sucked in a breath. “Too cold?”

Dean shook his head, answering huskily, “No, turned the fuck on, s’all.”

Sam grinned, continuing to stroke along Dean’s sides and hipbones before returning to flick gently at the nipples as he started sucking on Dean’s exposed throat. Hearing the responding growl was reward enough for Sam, however, Dean moved to slide a hand down Sam’s pants and into his briefs. Sam groaned, feeling Dean’s calloused fingers wrap around him and slowly start jerking him off. The friction was intense and Sam was ramped up already, he knew he would wouldn’t be able to stave off coming and he really didn’t want to do that in his pants. Before he could open his mouth to say a single thing, Dean kissed him again, then winked, slithering down Sam’s body.

Sam felt a chilly draft against his hips before warm, wet heat enveloped his cock. The sensation was exhilarating, and Dean pulled on Sam’s shirts to keep him covered as much as possible while he blew him. He alternated sucking with licking at the slit, sweeping up drops of pearlescent precome, letting his tongue lave over the fat vein on the underside of Sam’s thick cock. He let himself gag on it, allowing it to repeatedly bump the back of his throat, and he could hear Sam swearing as hands gripped the side of his own head in warning. He began sucking in earnest, bobbing back and forth, letting one hand hold the base of Sam’s dick while the other tried in vain to keep Sam’s shirts pulled down from the cold. There was no way he was stopping before Sam was finished, and it didn’t take long. Sam let go of his head and pounded the snow with both hands as his hips arched upwards, come shooting down Dean’s throat as Dean swallowed a few times, working every last drop down. When he finished cleaning off Sam’s softened cock, he quickly pulled up his brother’s pants and buttoned the bottom part of his coat.

Sam was dazed, a dopey smile on his face when Dean moved back up to kiss him again. Dean chuckled and began pulling himself back together, finding his now snow-covered scarf just beyond Sam’s head and pulling on his gloves. The snow was still coming down, and didn’t look like it would let up anytime soon.

“We gotta get back inside Sammy, warm up before we get serious frostbite.” He handed Sam his own gloves and braced a hand against Sam’s thigh to stand up. Then he offered his hand out to Sam, watching his little brother move like a new foal, unsteady on its legs.

They slowly made their way back to the cabin, Sam moving behind Dean, panting and still feeling a euphoric haze. As they reached the lean-to, Dean let Sam move ahead of him, looking at Sam with an affectionate smile on his face.

Sam returned the smile as he passed, pleased with how what should have been a sparring session went instead. “Let’s go straight to taking a hot bath, ok?” He took off his his coat to shake off the snow, then removed his beanie and shook his hair out, his glowing pink cheeks bright against the stark white backdrop behind him.

“Sure thing, sweetheart. You’re going to need it more than I will.”

Sam glanced around at Dean with a baffled look on his face just as he got a snowball stuffed down the backside of his pants. Yelping, he ran inside, Dean following him with joyful laughter. “Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it Sammy.”

They’d make up properly later, once they’d thawed out and gotten cozy again. Being snowed in wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be. He wondered what the next day would bring as he began stripping along the way to the bathroom, hearing the sound of the bathtub running and seeing steam swirl as it filled. As long as he was with Sam, everything would be better than alright.

 


End file.
